The Lady or the Lion

by Aamna Qureshi

  But the way he said made it seem something unscrupulous, something she wouldn’t want others to overhear. She gave him a pointed look.

  “Enough small talk,” she told him. “We must focus on finding evidence. Let’s go to my library—we must be discreet.”

  “I assure you, princess,” he said with a wink. “I can be quite discreet.”

  She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help being amused.

  They walked toward her library, but as they did, Saifullah and Zarmina approached. When they saw her with Asfandyar, an identical look of concern crossed the twin’s faces.

  “Ambassador,” Saifullah said, giving Asfandyar a nod.

  “Where are you two headed?” Zarmina asked Durkhanai, eyes worried. Durkhanai didn’t want to lie, but she knew her cousins wouldn’t understand the truth, either. Knew they would try and stop her, thinking she was being a fool. But she could handle herself and her people.

  “I’m just loaning the ambassador . . . a book,” Durkhanai replied with a smile.

  Neither of them believed her, but they let her go. Zarmina gave Durkhanai one final glance that said we will discuss this later.

  “You don’t lie easily,” Asfandyar noted, when they were out of hearing range.

  “I try to avoid it whenever I can,” she replied.

  They walked in silence the rest of the way, until they arrived at her library, which was quiet and serene, as usual. Thoughts spinning, Durkhanai boiled down to one solid theory: that the Kebzu Kingdom was behind the attack. She told Asfandyar as much.

  “What do you think?”

  In the past few weeks since Gulalai first proposed the idea to her, Durkhanai had been considering it, and it made sense.

  “It is plausible,” Asfandyar replied. “But who would have given the Kebzu Kingdom the information? ”

  “And why? Who would risk their Wali’s life in such a manner? That’s what I can’t figure out.” Durkhanai paused. “But since you were there, and you know most of the walis and their advisors, I figured you would have a better idea.”

  Durkhanai pulled out a piece of paper and pencil, sitting down in front of Asfandyar.

  “Walk me through the events of that day,” she said, ready to take notes. “Any detail, anything that could be useful.”

  “Alright,” he said. “Well, it was held in Teerza—at the Wali’s mansion. The four walis were there—from B'rung, Jardum, Kurra, and Teerza—as well as two to three advisors each. So about fifteen people total, I would say. We all sat in a large room with great big windows. As people were arriving, we were discussing casual things with one another.”

  He paused, trying to remember.

  “Then, the Wali of Teerza quieted us all down, telling us to take our seats once everybody had arrived. He began distributing papers—there was an excitement in the air. We knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it could be something worthwhile.”

  Asfandyar stopped, swallowing.

  “And then the explosion. It seemed to come from everywhere, all at once, before the Wali of Teerza could even speak. I was thrown across the room, but the fall was softened by other bodies. When I opened my eyes, the room was full of sulfur and smoke, dust and debris. As I looked to my side, I found the Wali of Teerza with glass lodged throughout his body, blood flowing across his skin. He was already dead.

  “I stood, inspecting the wreckage, and saw the Wali of Jardum, arm decapitated. A large mass of stone had fallen and crushed her body. I had regarded her as family: she was a good friend of my father’s, and after his passing and my mother’s, she had always treated me like her own.”

  He closed his eyes, face contorted in pain.

  “I didn’t even get to see her face,” he whispered, then stopped, no longer able to speak.

  Durkhanai hadn’t realized how gruesome it had been. Nor did she consider how painful it would be for him to relive the memories of that day—after all, he could have been among those deceased or severely injured. And people he had known—colleagues—had been among the casualties.

  “I’m sorry,” Durkhanai said, voice small. “I didn’t realize . . .”

  “It’s alright,” he replied, opening his eyes. He cleared his throat. “The attack—it just reminded me of the fronts.”

  “You were a soldier? But you’re so young.” She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice.

  Asfandyar shrugged it off, running a hand through his curls.

  “I was in a bad place, then,” he said. She wanted to ask him more, but he continued on before she could. “What I don’t understand is why a zilla would have informed the Kebzu Kingdom. Unless nobody did and the Kebzu Kingdom has spies of their own?”

  “No, I don’t think they have spies,” she replied.

  The entire affair was immensely secretive. In Marghazar, only she and her grandparents had known about it, and Asfandyar had mentioned before that only the walis of the zillas and their most trusted advisors had known about it. Of which, he was one.

  Durkhanai wanted to ask how he managed to become a senior advisor at such a young age—he was only nineteen, after all. And while Gulalai and Durkhanai were both seventeen and in similar positions, they were blood of the walis.

  But those were questions for another time.

  “Who is benefitting from this situation?” Asfandyar asked.

  And suddenly it hit her.

  “What about B'rung?”

  Durkhanai had written them off initially—as had Gulalai—because they were usually ignored and seen as irrelevant.

  But they could have orchestrated the summit attack in order to gain Marghazar’s favor and gain a strong ally as well.

  Durkhanai recalled how her grandmother, the Wali of S’vat and person dealing with negotiations, had been spending quite some time with the B'rung ambassador, Palwasha-sahiba.

  B'rung was Marghazar’s neighbor in the south and shared a border. Could the Badshah be considering annexing B'rung into Marghazar? It would explain why Palwahsa-sahiba was being so amiable with the noblewomen during the mountain walk. The Badshah could be contemplating such a thought in order for more resources, but more importantly, for fortifications against the Lugham Empire in the east, which he was determined to defeat once and for all.

  But if that was the case, her grandparents would know B'rung was the informant and thus behind the summit attack, no? Wouldn’t they tell her?

  They wouldn’t. Just as they had withheld the medicine, they could be withholding more information. They didn’t tell her everything, which meant that Durkhanai had to find out the truth for herself. Then figure out what to do about it.

  “What are you thinking?” Asfandyar asked. “I can see your mind working.”

  “I’m thinking it was the B'rung zilla that informed the Kebzu Kingdom about the summit—after all, hadn’t they been eager for this negotiation period with the Badshah? And their wali hadn’t been killed, barely injured.”

  “You’re right,” Asfandyar agreed, recalling the day. “B'rung wasn’t too interested in unification, either. They seemed to have been bullied into attendance.”

  “There’s our lead,” she said.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” Asfandyar said, eyes gleaming. “Time to spy.”

  Durkhanai made her way to the ambassadors’ wing, Asfandyar on her tail. Palwasha-sahiba should have been at a meeting with the Wali of S’vat, if Durkhanai was correct—which meant this was a perfect time to snoop through her belongings.

  But she froze right before turning the corner.

  Asfandyar looked over her shoulder and swore. Palwasha-sahiba was out, but her servant was still there, tidying up.

  “We’ll come back in a little while,” Durkhanai whispered. They both turned to leave, but their path was blocked by a cane.

  Durkhanai’s eyes traveled the length of the cane until they met the person wielding it.

  “What’s going on?” Gulalai asked, voice sweet. She looked between Asfandyar and Durkhanai, how close
they stood, how guilty they looked to have been caught. Gulalai narrowed her eyes at Durkhanai, giving her a look.

  “Gulalai, do me a favor,” said Durkhanai. “Distract that servant over there.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I need to go to Palwasha-sahiba’s room,” Durkhanai said. Gulalai looked to Asfandyar to see if they were being serious, and he nodded.

  “And why would that be?” Gulalai replied. “You do know B'rung is Kurra’s ally, don’t you? And Asfandyar-sahib—are you forgetting B'rung is Jardum’s ally as well?”

  Durkhanai pulled Gulalai to the side, lowering her voice so Asfandyar wouldn’t hear.

  “You want your alliance with Marghazar, don’t you?” she whispered. “Time to prove your loyalty.”

  Gulalai considered this, her fingers tapping the jeweled handle of her cane.

  “Fine,” she conceded.

  Durkhanai grinned, squeezing Gulalai’s arm. “I won’t easily forget this, Gulalai.”

  “I would hope not.”

  They went back to stand with Asfandyar, and Durkhanai nodded at him. They stood to the side, watching as Gulalai approached Palwasha-sahiba’s room, looking around to create a diversion. Just then, the servant came out of the room, carrying a mop and bucket of water, heading down the hall.

  Durkhanai swore she saw Gulalai sigh.

  Then, she dramatically bumped into the servant, sending the bucket of soapy water tumbling. Gulalai shrieked as water spilled over her, then made a show of slipping and pulling the servant down with her.

  “What have you done!” Gulalai cried. “Are you blind? Guards, help me!”

  And while everyone was distracted, Asfandyar and Durkhanai slipped into Palwasha-sahiba’s room.

  “Quick, we won’t have much time,” Durkhanai whispered. They headed toward the attached office in the back of the room, where there was an empty desk, a bookshelf, and little boxes.

  They split up, rummaging through the boxes and the papers, trying to find something, anything. She found letters from family members and other sorts of things, but nothing important, until Asfandyar whistled to get her attention. He held up a box.

  “Locked,” she said.

  He grinned, coming toward her. Before she could ask precisely what he was doing, he lifted a hand into her hair. A shiver ran down her spine, involuntarily moving her closer to him.

  He held up a pin.

  “Just one moment please, princess,” he said, his nimble fingers going to work at picking the lock. He eased it open in no time. She gave him a light round of applause.

  “Impressive.”

  He gave a slight bow.

  They began sifting through even more papers, until Durkhanai’s eyes fell on correspondence signed by the Wali of B'rung.

  “I found something,” she whispered. Durkhanai unfolded the letter to begin reading, but just as she did, her ears perked.

  They heard voices approaching.

  “Hide!” Asfandyar whisper-shouted, closing the box and putting it back where it belonged.

  “Wait! There’s something here.”

  She scanned the words, reading quickly, the words barely registering. But what she understood was the Wali of B'rung writing that the ambassador must use this opportunity in Marghazar or it will all have been for nothing.

  What will have been for nothing?

  Before she could read more, Asfandyar grabbed her hand, dragging her into the connecting changing room just as the door to the room opened.

  Durkhanai swore under her breath as she heard Palwasha-sahiba yelling at her servant. Behind them, she could hear Gulalai speaking as well.

  The voices came closer, louder and clearer, as Durkhanai and Asfandyar scrambled for somewhere to hide.

  “Here,” Asfandyar said, as he saw a travelling trunk. When he opened the lid, it was empty, all the clothes unpacked. Without another word, he climbed in.

  “Come on,” he said.

  Durkhanai looked behind her. The voices were coming closer.

  “It’s okay,” he said, voice gentle. He was sitting with his back pressed against the side of the trunk, legs spread open. With one hand, he held open the lid of the trunk, and he offered his other hand to her.

  “Fittay mu tera,” she muttered, taking his hand. She climbed in, sitting in front of him, but it was a tight squeeze—her legs wouldn’t fold. She pressed her back against him, bending her limbs as much as they could, and Asfandyar lowered the lid of the trunk.

  He held it open with one hand, leaving a crack of light and air in. They were pressed together, and the trunk was suddenly very, very hot as she realized how close they were.

  “Why are your legs so long?” she hissed, trying to separate herself from him. They were tangled together, every muscle of his chest pressed into her back.

  “Why are your legs so long?” he hissed back.

  But in the heat and the dark, claustrophobia spread across her chest, a constricting feeling that made her whimper. She breathed in short bursts of air, trying not to hyperventilate.

  “It’s okay,” Asfandyar whispered, voice gentle. His free arm untangled to come around her. She clutched his hand tightly, felt his bones crush between hers.

  “It’s alright, I’m here,” he murmured. “Shh, it’s okay.”

  Just then, the voices came close enough for Durkhanai to tell they were in the changing room. Heart beating fast, she prayed they wouldn’t be found. Her and Asfandyar both froze, not moving a muscle, their limbs cramped and strained.

  “Gulalai-sahiba, I’m so sorry for my servant’s clumsiness,” Palwasha-sahiba was saying. “Here, take this shahtoosh shawl as a token of apology.”

  “It’s no problem at all—thank you so much!” Gulalai answered, voice high. “Come, now, won’t you join me for tea in my rooms?”

  “Yes, of course,” Palwasha-sahiba replied.

  “And bring your servant as well!”

  The voices were growing distant now, and Durkhanai released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding when the room finally fell silent once more.

  “I think they’ve gone,” Asfandyar whispered. The trunk creaked as he eased open the lid, revealing the empty changing room.

  “It’s okay,” he said, stroking Durkhanai’s hair with his now free hand.

  She hadn’t realized she was still clutching his other hand.

  “Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. “Shukria.”

  Fresh air kissed Durkhanai’s cheeks as she stepped out, and she sighed with relief, stretching. It was then she remembered she still had the letter from the locked box.

  She read it carefully, then handed it to Asfandyar for inspection.

  “Yes, this makes sense,” Asfandyar replied, reading about B'rung’s need for roads. “I have been there before, and B'rung is exceptionally hilly, which makes the land highly inaccessible. Even within the zilla, roads are underdeveloped, and there is no proper system connecting the villages to the main cities.”

  The letter continued to describe how Marghazar had such impeccable infrastructure—if Palwasha-sahiba could negotiate for Marghazar to aid B'rung in the building of roads, they could negotiate something for B'rung to give something in return—something the Badshah couldn’t refuse.

  But it didn’t say what exactly.

  As they snuck out of Palwasha-sahiba’s rooms, one thing was sure: the B'rung zilla was immensely suspicious. They could have been the ones to inform the Kebzu Kingdom of the summit, inciting the attack.

  All she needed was proof.

  Chapter Eleven

  Adjacent to investigating, Durkhanai got into the habit of slipping out some nights to hand out medicine with Asfandyar, trying to reach different villages each time. During the day, she tried to note which homes housed the ill, and they would do as much as they could in the little night they had. They would send one another letters to check if the other was awake, then head out. One night, it rained, so they stayed in the palace, but they sent letters back and for
th for hours.

  Asfandyar was always awake.

  They had an easy alliance, an even easier friendship, and she started to look forward to that time with him, when nobody was watching, and they didn’t have to pretend or worry. He didn’t have to accompany her, but she suspected he enjoyed that time as much as she did.

  Soon, Durkhanai became addicted to the game of it all.

  It felt like gambling: the thrill, the risk, always on the edge. She pushed and tested the boundaries each day, waiting to see how Asfandyar would react. They had an easy rapport, and for every nudge she sent, he always nudged back.

  Durkhanai had to keep reminding herself she was only working with Asfandyar out of necessity. To exonerate her people and avoid war.

  But it was getting harder to convince herself.

  So she focused on the ambassadors other than the wry one from Jardum—starting with Gulalai.

  “Your help with Palwasha-sahiba is something I will not easily forget,” Durkhanai said at their first opportunity to talk privately. Their alliance was now set in stone, and Durkhanai would repay the favor in kind whenever she could. Until then, she asked Gulalai to trust her—she didn’t want to discuss the theory about B'rung until it was confirmed. After all, B'rung and Kurra were still allies.

  In return for that trust, Durkhanai sought out an opportunity to speak to the Wali of S’vat. She wondered if her grandmother would know anything about B'rung and a link to the summit attack.

  There was a breakfast feast that jummah morning. Durkhanai got ready early, knowing that Dhadi would be the first in the great hall.

  She was right.

  “Dhaadi,” Durkhanai called as she entered. They were the only ones there other than maids setting the table with finishing touches of fresh flowers and lit candles. “How are negotiations going so far?”

  “They are going well, janaan,” Dhadi replied, distracted. She pointed to a server. “The chakore should be on the right, not the left.” She turned back to Durkhanai. “Nothing to fret over.” With a smile, she went to straighten one of the place settings.

  “I can speak to some of the ambassadors if you would like,” Durkhanai offered, trailing behind her. “You must be so terribly busy.”